


A Sweet Encounter

by mrwiggums



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-09 03:00:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/769181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrwiggums/pseuds/mrwiggums
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meria Hawke accompanies Aveline to a quiz night, where they unexpectedly run into the object of Hawke's affections. Unfortunately, he also brings out Hawke's awkward side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Sweet Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> Drabbles aside, this is the first thing I've written in years, so I hope it's enjoyable!

Meria Hawke had never thought much of the small villages around Kirkwall, until one day Aveline had begged her to join at an unassuming village hall. “A quiz night?” remarked Hawke, in confusion. She remembered Donnic giving an account of the ‘pub quizzes’ that used to take place at The Hanged Man. Apparently they ended because everyone got too drunk and started shouting first answers, then nonsense. The evening usually finished with chairs being thrown about. When he gave a wistful sigh, it went unsaid that this was what he thought a proper quiz night should be, not cake and tea with a bunch of old dears. Hawke was not completely shocked then, that Aveline needed someone to accompany her.   
  
However, it had been a while since Hawke had really relaxed, or got out of Kirkwall for that matter (if you didn’t count the trips to the Wounded Coast to slaughter yet another group of bandits) and as she looked around the room of mostly older women chattering away, she felt nostalgic for the quiet village life she’d had with her family in Lothering. Perhaps when all this Champion business in Kirkwall was concluded, she’d move to a place like this.  _After all_ , she sighed,  _it’s not as if there’s anything keeping me in the city_. She’d lost her family members one by one: Malcolm to sickness; Carver to an ogre; Bethany to the taint. As for Leandra, the less she thought about Quentin’s abominable experiment, the better. She supposed she had Gamlen left, but as far as family went, he wasn’t really ‘stay in town for’ material.  _Not unless I fancy handing over a few sovereigns every month to the ‘dear uncle who did help the family out in the time of need’._  She snorted at that.  _Dear uncle indeed. Grouchy bastard, more like._  
  
Of course, Hawke loved her companions, but she felt that eventually they would all go their own ways. Most of all Aveline who, quiz nights aside, was joined at the hip with her new husband Donnic. Hawke felt a pang then. That was what she wanted. When she pictured herself in a small cottage in the countryside, it wasn’t alone. Maker help her, she knew exactly who it was with. Her ochre cheeks flushed at the thought and she busied herself with buying a couple of servings of fruit bread from the woman at the counter. As she bent down to pick up the few copper bits she’d dropped in her clumsiness, it registered at the back of her mind that the door had opened as another participant joined the room. She also could have sworn she heard a sharp intake of breath, and after she’d straightened herself up, paid the woman and turned around to return to their table, she almost dropped the blighted fruit bread in her shock.  
  
 _What was the phrase? Speak of demons and they shall appear?_   _Or in this case, think of attractive Tevinter elves and they’ll sit down at Aveline’s table._   _Stop getting flustered_ ,  _it’s not as if you never see him outside of battle. Or without his armour. Oh Maker, he isn’t wearing his armour.  
  
_ The rational part of her brain responded to this with  _well yes just how much of a threat is a room full of elderly women armed with naught but buns_ and the irrational part wasn’t thinking anything because it was burning out on just how Maker-damned good he looked. She returned to the table, trying to control her inner monologue and the overwhelming shyness that was rearing its head.  
  
“Fenris, I didn’t expect you to be here”, she managed, passing the fruit bread over to Aveline, who nodded her gratitude.  
             
“I could say the same for you”, he murmured, one eyebrow raised in amusement.   
  
As Hawke went to reclaim her seat next to Aveline, she realised that it had been taken by another woman who’d been looking for a table to join. Hawke grabbed another chair and was just about to ask the woman if she could move over to make space for her, when Fenris wordlessly moved his chair. She was blushing, she was sure, at the unspoken gesture, but worse was when she sat down and realised just how tight the space was. She was pressed against Fenris’ shoulder and in a panic, she was about to ask him if she should move, when she looked over and saw the edges of his mouth pulled up in a barely detectable smile.  _Maker, he smells like that spice that Orana sometimes brings back from the Tevinter merchant at the market. The one she bakes into those cookies._  
  


* * *

 _  
_When Orana had first made the cookies “from Papa’s own recipe”, Hawke had felt worried about eating something Hadriana once demanded. After some reassurance by Orana, “I like to make these for you mistress. You are kinder than the magister”, and some scolding by Hawke, “I told you Orana, you don’t have to call me mistress”, she had taken a bite and her worries had disappeared. _Maker,_ she had thought,  _is it wrong that for cookies this good, they could have been the favourite of Maferath himself for all I care?  
  
_ She’d immediately asked Orana for the recipe, and the next time she’d been due to visit Fenris for reading lessons, she’d brought a batch with her. He hadn’t said anything as she arranged them on the plate before they started, but when she returned from using the privy and peered inside the doorway, she saw that he had one in his mouth, his eyes closed in bliss. She’d been overcome with pride that he’d enjoyed her handiwork and  _something else_ at the pleasured expression on his face. She’d been so embarrassed that she hadn’t been able to enter the room until he’d finished, making up some story about getting lost in the mansion that she knew almost as well as her own estate.  
  


* * *

  
“Cinnamon… that was it…” she mumbled, before realising that the thought had made its way to her lips. Fenris merely raised an eyebrow at her in question and she resisted the urge to sink under the table.  _What is wrong with me?_ She chided herself. _I can face down a high dragon without flinching for Andraste’s sake!_ Luckily, he didn’t comment but instead initiated conversation with Aveline.  
             
“So how is it that you two have managed to find me here? ‘Perks of the job’ again, Aveline?” Aveline snorted.  
             
“Hardly. I should really be asking why on earth you attend here. I didn’t realise older women were your type.” Hawke choked on her tea then, and was surprised to hear Fenris chuckle in response.  
             
“I like it here. The atmosphere relaxes me.” That, Hawke could see. It couldn’t just be the lack of armour that accounted for his less-hunched posture, nor would it contribute to the easy smile that crinkled his eyes and  _maker why am I noticing that am I staring at him stop staring at him Meria!  
  
_ Hawke’s face was florid again, but thankfully a woman came around to hand the late-comers cards for the quiz. As Fenris took one, Hawke glanced at her own. Drawn on the cards were a 9x9 grid of squares, a neatly written-out topic inside each one. Below the grid was the space for the participant to write their own name and also the name of their “go-to”. Aveline had explained that the quiz would involve the variety of topics visible inside the grids, but for one topic that you felt unconfident with, you could nominate another participant, whose answers for that topic would be counted if your own were incorrect. Hawke had put down Aveline as hers, due to the fact that as of five minutes ago, she was the only person there she knew.  _Not to mention_ , grimaced Hawke,  _that I’m not exactly the best person to ask about Orlesian history_.  
  
Hawke glanced over at Fenris’ card, where he was writing his name in simple, but neat handwriting. She felt a growing sense of pride, not of herself, but of him, for all the progress he’d made since they first started his reading lessons. It had started with the Book of Shartan. Now, all this time later he was partaking in a written quiz for the sheer pleasure of it. That wasn’t the only milestone he’d made either, Hawke thought. She remembered the long nights together were not just an academic struggle for him, but also a personal struggle for her. The space between them, both mental and physical, was gaping and she’d be lying if she said it hadn’t hurt. She’d understood his need for a slow pace, both in kindling their friendship and allowing physical contact. Now, she realised as she leaned against him, this was the closest she’d ever been to him. Without their armour on, there were only two layers of cloth separating their skin.  _How would it feel_ , she thought,  _to feel that skin against mine? My cheeks dark with something other than embarrassment for once…_  
  
“Are you alright Hawke?” asked Fenris, and she jumped at his voice. “You look fevered. Is it the heat in this room?” Concern was evident in his voice.  
             
“I agree, it is warm with all these people here. I’ll open a window for you”, assured Aveline kindly, as she pushed her chair back to arise.   
  
 _No no no no don’t leave me alone with him,_ thought Hawke desperately as Aveline left to ask one of the organisers about the wonders of ventilation. The two of them were left in comfortable silence amidst the chattering around them, or rather, it would have been comfortable were Hawke’s brain not abuzz with thoughts of  _Fenris._ She glanced over at his quiz card again and her heart caught for a second. Under the header of “Name of participant and category for answer substitution”, was written, “M e r i a  H a w k e  ( M u s i c )”.  _He trusts me,_ she thought wildly,  _Aveline’s here and she’s much more knowledgeable than me an- Maker, did he remember?_  
  
Hawke’s mind went back to another of their reading sessions. As the years went by, the ‘lessons’ were really just formalities. It became more of an excuse for the two to sit together and read; for Fenris to take pleasure in the progress he’d made. The atmosphere had become more relaxed, with no small thanks to the wine that calmed her nerves, and the two had taken to learning about each other.  
  


* * *

  
“So you’re a music lover?” he had asked when Hawke expressed her dismay at his revelation that Danarius never allowed music in his estate.  
             
“I suppose you could say that. It would be more truthful to say that my father was”, she replied with nostalgia in her voice.  
             
“You never speak of him,” murmured Fenris, “Would you tell me about him?”  
             
Hawke had smiled fondly. “He really did love music, you know. When he spoke about his favourite pieces and composers, that was when he was at his most vibrant. I suppose the library in the Circle must have been full of tomes of music, for him to know so much. He wanted to name me ‘Viola’, but mother said she’d be damned if she had a child named after an instrument.” Fenris laughed then, a deep chuckle, and she realised how rarely he did so. “As a compromise, they settled on ‘Meria’ after my Rivaini grandmother. Apparently it means ‘rebellious one’, but I don’t think that fits me particularly well.”  
             
“No? I believe the Qunari would probably say otherwise”, he quipped with a grin. “But ‘Viola’ is interesting”, he rumbled, “You certainly have the beautiful curves of the instrument”.  
  
Hawke tried to supress a strangled sound. “Goodness no, you can’t think so. I- Fenris, I- I think you’ve had too much wine…” she stammered at the unexpected flattery. She avoided his eyes, not quite knowing how to react. He leaned back.   
  
“Perhaps I have”, he mused. “My apologies Meria, I did not mean to make you uncomfortable. It would be best if we call it an evening.”  
  
She was grateful for his tact. She never knew what to do in such situations. They said their goodbyes with the fondness of good friends, but as she journeyed the short walk back to her house, all she could hear echoing in her mind was the timbre of his voice and that one word she’d never heard him say: ‘Meria’.  
 _  
_

* * *

  
She was touched that he’d remembered that one conversation, which should have been lost in a sea of many. It couldn’t have meant anything to him, could it? Before she could lose herself in another wave of introspection, Hawke was forced to pay attention to the present when Aveline returned and the quiz began.  
  
Overall, she found the whole event easy-going and quite enjoyable. The questions hadn’t been as hard as she’d anticipated, but there were a few obscure ones that had her racking her brain and whispering to Aveline. Occasionally she glanced over at Fenris, his brow furrowed in concentration. When it came to the music section, she found herself inexplicably panicking.  _It’s just a quiz, what are you worrying about. What does it matter if you get one wrong?_  Because, she’d realised, she didn’t want to let him down. He had put his faith in her. It went so much further than the quiz. Fenris trusted her. Bile rose in her throat as she realised that she had no idea what the answer was for the last question in the category.  _It’s an Antivan composer, right? Or was it Nevarran?_  If Fenris got the question wrong, they’d take her answer instead.  
  
She was over-reacting. Yes it was just a quiz, but she couldn’t stop the irrational fear that he’d close up again; that he’d decide she wasn’t worth trusting after all. She quickly glanced at him and was surprised by the small smile on his face. Then she suddenly realised, he was humming. For a moment she couldn’t tear her eyes away from his face.  _He’s humming the song. He knows the answer. Have I ever heard him hum before?_  As she looked at him, dazed, his eyes rose to meet hers and his smile broke into a heartfelt grin. She looked away hurriedly. _I think I might die before the evening’s done.  
  
_ It seemed that Fenris’ regular attendance had paid off. He’d come 2nd overall and though he shrugged off the praise from Aveline, Hawke saw that he was barely containing his pride.  _As a matter of fact, neither am I,_ she thought happily. When he returned from collecting his prize, Hawke was surprised that the tips of his ears had reddened and he was having difficulty meeting her eyes.  
             
“So, what did you get?” inquired Aveline.  
             
“I do not wish to discuss it”, replied Fenris, somewhat stiffly.  
  
Aveline shrugged. “Fair enough, you don’t have to share if you don’t want to. I’m off to get more fruit bread anyway.” She winked at Hawke as she left. The tone of her voice had suggested she’d meant “I’ll get out of your way”.   
  
 _What in the blazes did she mean by that_ , wondered Hawke. When she turned back to Fenris, he was looking at her.  
             
“Hawke”, he murmured with some discomfort, “I want you to have it”. He unwrapped the tissue paper to reveal the prize he had received. It was a necklace, gold-coloured but likely another metal, with the sparse wealth of the village in mind. Hanging from it was a single, semi-precious green gem. Hawke was speechless as he undid the clasp and held it up.  
  
"May I?” he asked. Hawke found herself unable to vocalise and merely nodded. They held each other’s gaze as she held up her long, dark hair, and he reached behind her neck to attach the clasp, his hands brushing against her light brown skin.  
  
“It looks good on you”, he surmised, slowly dropping his hands.  
             
“It’s the colour of your eyes”, Hawke breathed. His eyebrows shot up and he looked away, drawing her out of her reverie.  _Andraste’s tits, what in the void did I say that for? What’s next from my newfound talent of awful pick-up lines, “Did it hurt when you fell from the Golden City”?_  
  
Hawke couldn’t have been more relieved when Aveline returned, and with her intervention, the awkwardness didn’t last long.  
  
As the night continued, falling into a post-event lull, Hawke allowed the chatter of the room to wash over her. It’d been a long day and she was full of bread and warmth. She couldn’t help but find herself leaning on Fenris more heavily as fatigue overtook her, until eventually she fell asleep, her head resting on his shoulder.  
  


* * *

  
“We should move on”, Fenris quietly announced to Aveline, gesturing at the sleeping Hawke on his shoulder. Aveline smiled.  
             
“I suppose all the excitement of general knowledge has worn her out. I’d best be getting back to Donnic myself. Are you going to wake her or-?”  
             
“It is a short walk to the local inn. I do not mind carrying her there.”  _She has earned the rest_ , he reminded himself, hard-pressed to come up with a time when he’d ever seen Hawke truly relax. The closest he could think of was the reading sessions they had, but with the assistance of wine, he felt that it didn’t count. There was no way that evenings spent with an elven ex-slave could ever mean as much to her as it did to him, but Hawke was kind and he treasured her friendship. He’d gone from illiteracy to second-place in a quiz, albeit one held by old women in a small village. His gaze lingered on the necklace hanging around her neck. Aveline had apparently noticed it, but said nothing, just as she always had of the feelings she surely knew he harboured.   
  
 _It’s the colour of your eyes_ , Hawke had said. He’d been caught completely off-guard by the comment. It was unexpectedly intimate. He had not hoped for such attention from Hawke, remembering her horror when he’d attempted to flirt with her. He was resolute that she would never be interested in him and was content with her friendship.  _Well no_ , he had to admit to himself,  _not entirely content_. Even with his ceaseless pragmatism, he still allowed himself to occasionally imagine what life would be like with the love of Meria Hawke.  
  
The woman herself stirred slightly as he stood up with her in his arms. He knew the local inn well from his regular visits there. It would be of little cost to rent a room for Hawke and one for himself. He nodded to Aveline, who would be more than capable of defending herself on the road to Kirkwall. Maker help any bandit that stood between her and her return to Donnic.  
             
“Stay safe Aveline”, he said in farewell, but she hesitated before turning to leave him.  
             
“Fenris. You’ll take care of her, won’t you?” He looked at her concerned expression, realising that she was not referring to the escort back to Kirkwall. Understanding passed between them.   
             
“Of course” he replied softly. Then, more to himself than Aveline, “I am hers”.


End file.
